


berceuse

by sciencebluefeelings



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Exhibitionism, Hurt/Comfort, Lapdance, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Human Genitalia, Praise Kink, Rape Aftermath, Sharing a Bed, Sickfic, Strip Tease, can a lapdance be wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27819277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencebluefeelings/pseuds/sciencebluefeelings
Summary: Jim had never felt so helpless in his life.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock Prime
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	berceuse

The worst part about it all might be that the ambassador was never supposed to be here in the first place.

There was supposed to be an important academic conference that Ambassador Spock was going to attend for the duration of the week. Then the night before his flight, Ambassador Spock learned the event was canceled due to unforeseen events regarding the stability of the planet the conference was supposed to be at. Ambassador Spock ate dinner with Jim in the mess hall as usual, and Jim couldn't be more pleased.

Jim cracks open his eyes, and his entire body is burning with agony except for his right leg which is numb. Jim tries to move the leg against the hard stone floor, and it feels like needles are pricking into every inch of muscle. The bone might be fractured. Jim grits his teeth and tries to sit up, but his limbs are too weak. He can hear Spock breathing somewhere, how he knows that's Spock he can't say, he just knows. It sounds like they are the only ones in the dark space.

“Jim? Are you awake?” Jim can barely discern the words, but the ambassador’s fearful voice is enough to spur Jim into sitting up again. He realizes he’s inside what looks like a prison cell. Spock is in the cell on the other side of the broad hallway.

Jim stares in horror. Spock’s robe and shoes are gone, leaving him only in his upper undergarment and underwear. His ankles and limbs are all spread apart and crudely tied to the bars of his cell with wires and chains. It’s a state of undress that Jim has never seen the ambassador in.

A stomping sound echoes down the hall. Spock gasps and tries to move with futile effort. The source of the sound is an Andorian guard with heavy boots and a nasty looking phaser. He leers at Jim. “We were waiting for you to wake up.” He unlocks Spock’s cell door and saunters behind him. He reaches a hand around Spock’s waist and begins kneading his groin.

Spock jerks, but the bonds on his limbs don't give an inch as he struggles. Jim lunges at the cell bars despite the screaming pain of his leg. “Stop! Don't you fucking dare touch him, what the hell do you want?”

The Andorian glares, his hand still between Spock’s legs. “Some nerve, asking what I want when you know full well what it is you’ve done, Captain. We’re not particularly pleased with the way the negotiations went at the conference last week.” The Andorian twists his wrist and Spock gasps. “Which is to say, Captain, we’re absolutely livid.”

“We’ll give you what you want,” Jim begs. “Please, just leave that man alone. He’s done nothing wrong.”

“We’re not looking for monetary value, Captain.” The Andorian’s volume grows. “You humiliated me in front of that crowd, and I lost not only the rightful wealth I deserved, but also the respect of my people. Such things cannot be regained so easily.”

Jim yanks at the cell bars that don’t move even a millimeter. “You’ll regret this. I’ll fucking make you regret it. If you’re so mad at me, why don’t you come at me instead?”

“Jim, don’t.” Spock weakly tries to jerk away from the invasive touch again.

The Andorian shakes his head. “We both know it's not your own wellbeing that's your weak point, Captain. I’m content to make this man suffer and watch you tear yourself apart.”

Spock speaks with sudden startling clarity. “Captain, this is not your fault. You cannot blame yourself.”

The Andorian slaps the side of Spock’s head. “Shut up, old Vulcan.”

Jim heaves, close to throwing up. Starfleet trains officers in counter-interrogation. The teaching isn’t extensive, but they’ve been specifically curated with such situations in mind. Despite that, Jim is nowhere prepared for this. He can’t remain impartial. He has to.

Spock yanks at his bonds again to no avail. The Andorian strokes up his stomach. “You’ve been injected with a cocktail of weakening agent, Ambassador. Your Vulcan strength means nothing.” Something glints in the Andorian’s free hand, catching what dim light exists in the cell. Jim sees the blade of the knife and it takes everything in him not to go into complete hysterics.

The Andorian tugs at the band of Spock’s pants, bringing the knife closer. He toys the tip of the knife at the edge of the band before he drags down with steady pressure. The blade tears through the fabric with a pathetic, thin sound.

By the time the Andorian lets go of Spock, the front of the pants and underwear are completely shredded with loose threads tangled about. The top of the cut fabric hangs uselessly around his thighs, exposing the bare skin of his hips and his slightly flushed sheath. The hair there is darker than the color of the hair on his head. The Andorian gives one last pat to Spock’s naked rear, and Spock recoils away. “I'll be back tomorrow whenever I wake up. You sit tight and wait for me until then.”

Jim closes his eyes. The cell door clangs shut and is locked securely before the Andorian leaves. The silence is deafening. Jim looks back at Spock to see him shivering. “It must be cold,” Jim murmurs, his voice hollow. “I’m sure someone’s noticed we’ve gone missing by now.”

“Yes.” Jim can see every movement of Spock's chest as he breathes against the bars of the cell. He doesn’t know whether to stay and keep watch, or to turn his head away and respect the ambassador’s modesty. The scent of heady musk penetrates the thin odor of mildew and earth. Jim realizes he’s smelling the arousal seeping from Spock’s slit. It’s pooling and drenching the fabric of his underwear still caught around his upper thighs.

Jim stares hard at the blush on Spock’s face that is creeping up to his ears. “You’re - you’re turned on by me seeing you like this.”

Spock’s thighs tremble. “I recognize this is completely inappropriate given the situation, but I do not have control of my body. It appears the Andorian was not lying about the weakening agent.”

Jim grips the bars of the cell. “You’re so hot, babe.”

Spock’s breath catches. “You don’t find it unsettling?”

“It’s - of course it’s not _unsettling_.” Jim hates that they’re in this situation, hates how helpless he is to do anything. “You’re so gorgeous, Spock, I want to make you feel good.”

Spock whimpers and thrusts against the bars he's chained to. Then his hips still. “Perhaps if it had been another course of events, we would be engaging in a scene similar to this one - lacking the reality of the experience.”

Jim sobers again. “Perhaps.”

Jim rechecks his body for any tool that might come of use. His comm is predictably missing, as are his smaller hidden emergency comm and his shoes, which contain a lockpicking kit in the heels. Jim investigates the circumference of his cell several times, but the walls are solid and the cell door impenetrable by simple human means. Jim just has to wait and trust his crew to come find them. Long hours pass, and Jim sits pressed to the bars watching Spock squirm with discomfort. He must be tired, too, chained to the bars and forced to stand all night. Why hasn’t anyone fucking found them yet?

The returning footsteps make Jim’s heartbeat skyrocket. He’s on his feet by the time the Andorian reappears. The Andorian swears loudly, looking at Spock’s damp slit and underwear. “Look at how wet you are.”

Spock is breathing too fast again. The Andorian doesn’t even bother to close Spock’s cell door behind him as he cuts the rest of the way through the pants and underwear.

Spock’s slick drips from his blade as it clatters to the floor. From his angle Jim can't see what’s happening, but judging by the pained gasp and spasm, the Andorian has entered Spock from behind. The Andorian pushes forward again and Spock tosses his head, his chains rattling. The Andorian chuckles. “Just say the safe word, Ambassador, and I'll stop.”

“There is no safe word,” Spock says through gritted teeth.

The Andorian’s antennae hum. “On the contrary, there is. Of course, if you beg prettily enough, I'll also reconsider.”

Spock whimpers at another brutal thrust of hips, trapping his growing erection against the bars. “Even if I were to say anything, you would not stop.”

“That is correct,” the Andorian says, gleeful.

There’s another disgusting squelch as he pushes deeper. Spock keeps trying to stifle his whimpers of pain and pleasure. Jim flattens himself against the cell bars. “Spock, don't. It's okay, baby, don't hold it in.”

“Jim,” Spock sobs, hands gripping the bars of the cell he is chained to.

Jim struggles to keep his voice level, to stay calm for the both of them. “I know, baby. I’m right here. I’m here.”

The Andorian thrusts up into Spock so hard that his feet nearly come off the floor, and the chains strain to keep Spock in place. A growl escapes Spock’s chest and he desperately twists away. The Andorian pins Spock’s torso to the bars with two broad hands before fucking him again. Spock is crying now. Jim’s throat is hoarse. “I'm here, baby. Just focus on my voice. Sweetheart. It’ll be alright.”

With a sudden guttural snarl, Spock yanks so hard at the cell bars that the metal dents and the chains holding his wrist shatter.

Jim is nearly as surprised as the Andorian at the sudden display of strength. Spock has gone into a dead faint with the Andorian still inside of him, limply hanging by his other arm.

The Andorian slowly pulls out of Spock and puts Spock’s arm back up, rewrapping the chain. He tucks himself back in, and after fetching his knife off the floor, he exits the cell and locks the door. He doesn’t acknowledge Jim as he leaves. Jim shoves at his cell door, tries the lock again, but it doesn’t budge. He needs to find a way out of here before the Andorian comes back. He knows he wouldn’t be able to handle seeing Spock hurt any longer.

There’s a growing noise in the distance behind a closed door. It sounds like a fight at the top of the stairs, with shouts and the echo of phasers.

And then the sound floods all at once and Jim yelps as Starfleet officers rush down the prison hallway with Uhura at the center. She falters seeing the scene in front of her.

“Uhura,” Jim sobs. The cell door is unlocked and Uhura catches Jim’s embrace with open arms, all prior hesitation gone. Jim immediately turns his attention to the ambassador, but he’s already been freed and swarmed by their medical personnel, who are checking his condition and wrapping him in blankets.

Captain Spock strides forward, tucking away his phaser. “He has been apprehended,” he says without directing the statement to anyone in general. He focuses on Jim. “Are you alright?”

Jim just nods. It’s the easiest answer for now.

Captain Spock monitors his crew as they carefully carry Ambassador Spock away. “The Andorian was dampening our proximity telepathy with his own psi impulses, which delayed our progress in finding you. His orgasm caused him to forget to keep the shields up.” The disgust is clear in the normally dispassionate captain’s voice.

Jim’s voice trembles. “Death is too good for that man.”

“I concur.” Jim blinks at the reassuring hand on his shoulder, a comforting touch. Captain Spock removes his hand with a nod and briskly walks away, giving more orders to some redshirts.

Uhura holds Jim’s hand. “Let’s go back to the ship. Doctor McCoy is waiting for you.”

“M’Benga’s looking over the ambassador,” Bones says as soon as Jim enters his examination room. “So sit still and let me examine you.”

Jim’s voice is soft. “Thank you, Bones. He didn’t do anything to me, I swear.”

“Maybe not, but your leg is definitely fractured and you’re beginning to run a little too warm for my liking.” After running a medical regenerator, Bones prescribes antibiotics and bed rest.

After a long, hot shower, Jim crawls into the sterile hospital bed. He sleeps in fitful bursts the entire night, and when he wakes up the next morning, he’s coughing with heavy, wet coughs. His throat and eyes are on fire and his nose is completely clogged.

Bones’ hand on his forehead is like soothing ice. “Andorian flu. Not that contagious but hell on the lungs. And it lasts a good long time.”

“Fuck my life,” Jim groans.

“You’re young and strong - mostly - so expect about two weeks of bedrest.”

Jim snorts, but even that’s painful. “Mostly young and strong. Gee, thanks.”

“Someone’s gotta tell you the truth around here.” The soothing hand leaves his forehead and Jim mourns its absence.

It’s difficult to sleep when he can only breathe through his mouth. Thankfully the pain in his leg is almost gone. Jim manages to take a long nap, and he wakes to a sweaty back and grimy feeling hair. Jim can hear Bones in the outside corridor. There’s a moment of silence. Then Jim hears the low murmur of the ambassador’s voice and his heart skips.

Bones speaks loud and clear. “Sorry, Ambassador, but no. You’re in a weakened state, and the last thing we need is for you to catch the flu, too.”

The ambassador says something else.

Bones is sympathetic but firm. “No, Spock. Final answer. Now shoo.”

The silence returns. Jim strains to hear, but there is no more conversation. Jim falls asleep again thinking of the deep rumble of the ambassador’s voice.

Days blend into each other as Jim sleeps, forces food into himself, and mostly just sits in a daze, coughing and wheezing and feeling extra miserable. His head hurts like hell whenever he focuses too hard on a screen or the lines of a book, so that’s out of the question as well.

It’s clear Bones regrets not being able to spend more time with Jim, but he’s busy. Everyone is. Not that Jim would be much for conversation now, anyways. The solitude gives Jim’s brain a little too much time to continually conjure the horrific scene that had happened with the ambassador, recalling every moment of the traumatic scene. Jim cries to sleep that night, his head under the pillow in hopes that Bones won't notice his tears.

It seems like it takes forever, but Jim’s fever finally breaks. It’s still hard to breathe but it feels like the end of the tunnel. Jim feels more energetic with each passing day. Bones releases Jim from Medical Bay, warning him to stay on track with his medication.

Bones doesn’t seem surprised to see Ambassador Spock waiting for Jim at the exit, but Jim is. “Hi,” he says, unable to mask what he’s feeling. Ambassador Spock smiles, and it’s the best thing Jim’s ever seen.

They go to Jim’s private quarters, and Jim looks around the kitchen with a bubbling pot of soup and the main area that has clearly been occupied recently. “Uh - wow. Not that I mind, but I don’t think I ever gave you my entry pin.”

“You did not. I obtained it from the captain.”

Jim laughs. He moves to hug Spock from behind before catching himself. Spock turns towards Jim, oblivious of his aborted movement. “Would you like to eat?”

“Yes, definitely. It smells amazing.”

“That is the ginger and star anise,” Spock says, ladling the soup into bowls.

As Spock and Jim eat, Jim realizes there are more changes he hadn’t noticed before. New lights, picture frames and a bookshelf in the corner. “You’ve been decking out my woebegone bachelor pad.”

“It was a perplexing space that did not reflect your personality.”

“I’m not good at that kinda thing.” Jim admires the color of the varnish on the bookshelf. “You’ve got a really good eye for matching the furniture.”

Spock sounds immensely pleased. “Thank you. It was a satisfactory project that provided ample distraction for the past twelve days.”

Jim’s face falls a little and he gives into the temptation to brush a stray hair off of Spock’s forehead. Spock easily leans into the touch, and something inside Jim’s chest glows. “You’re welcome here anytime,” Jim says. “You and your fancy interior design tastes.”

Spock smiles, soft and shy. They part for the night, and Spock goes back to his own quarters. Jim takes his medication and showers. As he brushes his teeth, he observes his bed from the bathroom. He might sleep on the couch instead. Sleeping in his bed doesn’t feel right for some reason.

Jim pulls out the couch bed, which is usually a simple task but Jim still feels frail after the recent recovery from his illness, and the action tires him out. Without bothering to turn off the lights, Jim settles in the piles of blankets. He normally doesn’t sleep with a pillow but he does need to feel the texture of a fleece blanket to fall asleep.

Jim slowly breathes, reveling in the warmth, when he hears the intercom buzz. “Computer,” Jim says. “Receive call.”

There’s a click. “ _Jim_ ,” Ambassador Spock whispers.

Jim sits up. “Computer, unlock the door.”

Spock steps in wearing a soft sleep robe and an anguished expression on his face. He doesn’t hesitate in crawling onto the couch bed, and he buries himself into Jim’s embrace. “I got you, sweetheart,” Jim whispers.

Spock flips them around and pins Jim to the mattress. Spock is taller than him, but Jim can easily envelop Spock’s narrow shoulders with his own. Spock runs the tips of his fingers down Jim’s chest, under his shirt and up his sides grazing over his skin. Jim squirms and a breathless chuckle escapes his lips. “It tickles, Spock.”

Spock abandons his ministrations to curl up at Jim’s side. Jim pulls up the blanket, and Spock’s hand wanders over the plush fabric. “What is this?”

“A fleece blanket?”

“Fleece blanket,” Spock repeats, twisting his fingers through the fabric. “Isn’t fleece the wool of a Terran sheep or goat?”

“This is synthetic. That’s just the name to refer to it.”

“I see.” Spock continues to stroke the soft blanket.

Jim gently drapes his arm over Spock’s side, and Spock stops touching the blanket to wrap his hand over Jim’s. Jim smiles and nuzzles Spock’s neck. With Spock’s body right next to his, the pain of his illness feels subtly more distant. “Night, Spock.”

Spock sighs. “Goodnight, Jim.”

Jim and Spock have been given indefinite leave until they are ready to return to their posts aboard the _Enterprise_. Jim sometimes comes by the lab and works unofficially simply because he can and because it gives him something nice to do, but most of his time he rests, reads, or spends time with Spock.

Jim has no clue what kind of relationship he has with the older Vulcan. Frankly, he can’t believe Spock is still willing to be with Jim after the Andorian said aloud that Jim was the reason Spock had been hurt - forced to have sex against his will. Jim’s not questioning his good luck. He’s going to take good care of what he’s got for as long as he’s fortunate enough to have it.

Jim and Spock plan meals together, take walks in holodeck programs together, and mostly just talk to one another. Spock will talk about his experiences in his past reality, and Jim will share stories from fantastical books he remembers reading as an adolescent. Spock will frequently interject with questions about the characters, thoroughly intrigued by the narratives.

Some days Spock will disappear, leaving only a written note or a message on Jim’s PADD communicating that he wishes to be left alone for the day. On those days, Jim will seek out someone else to bother - usually Captain Spock and Bones - or simply relax in solitude.

Each night Jim and Spock fall asleep together, sometimes holding hands, usually just lying side by side in the same bed. Sometimes Jim will spasm awake from a nightmare and turn to see Spock soundly asleep in peaceful repose. The sight always makes his chest ache. He’s never seen Spock wake up before morning. Jim doesn’t know if Spock knows about his bad dreams or not.

One night when they have finished preparing to go to bed, Spock shyly grasps Jim’s wrists and leads him across the room. Jim gives Spock an encouraging smile and willingly follows. They go into Jim’s private quarters where there is a single chair in the middle of the floor. Jim voice-activates the lock. They are securely locked in the bedroom and no one will intrude on them.

Spock guides Jim to sit down in the chair before taking a step back. His face is slightly flushed. With hesitant movements, he leans forward and tilts his head. Jim lets his eyes close and he accepts the decadent press of soft lips to his own. It’s their first kiss.

Spock draws back again and plays with the hem of his shirt. Occasionally he lifts it a little higher, exposing a sliver of skin between the shirt and the top of his shorts.

Jim hums his approval. The sound seems to bolster Spock’s confidence. He turns around, teasing at the band of his light shorts, moving the fabric up and down but never off. Jim leans back and admires the sight of Spock’s legs in the fabric.

Spock grasps his shirt again and drags the hem all the way up under his chin, revealing taut nipples dark against his chest. He uses one hand to touch the nub with his thumb, rubbing it back and forth. Jim swallows and resists the urge to lean forward.

Spock removes his shirt the rest of the way and boldly approaches Jim again. Straddling him, Spock nudges his chest against Jim’s lips, grazing his soft hairs against Jim's cheek. Jim doesn’t kiss back, but he beams up at Spock, maintaining loving eye contact.

Spock steps back and finally removes his shorts, sliding them down his long legs and letting them pool on the floor. Then he steps out of his underwear, exposing the full length of his body. His fingers move up under Jim’s chin, gently stroking the skin. Jim keeps his hands at his sides, watching without touching.

Spock sinks to the floor in front of Jim, braced on his knees. He carefully spreads his thighs apart, revealing his inner slit seeping his arousal. Jim can’t help but marvel at the sight. Spock lifts his arms, twists his hands together above his head and arches back slightly. His nipples are fully erect now. Spock rolls his hips, never breaking eye contact.

Jim’s breath catches. “Babe, oh, fuck.” He stares as Spock stands again and turns to reveal the sharp lines of his back and shoulder blades. Spock carefully backs up to sit sideways in Jim’s lap, one hand clutched around his shoulder and the other pressed to Jim's chest. Spock's eyes are sparkling.

It’s taking all of Jim’s willpower to keep from grabbing the beautiful man in his lap. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

Spock’s gaze turns bashful. “Thank you, Jim.”

Jim looks appraisingly at Spock’s body. “Thank _you_.”

Spock’s hand snakes between them, pulling at the button of Jim’s pants. The pleasant intimacy Jim had been feeling is replaced with wariness. He quickly pushes away Spock’s hand. “Spock, wait. What are you intending to do?”

Spock blinks at Jim. “If we do not engage in intercourse after such a demonstration, would that not be what is considered a ‘tease’?”

Jim is swept into a visceral flashback of the sour smell of sex and mildew and the visual of Spock being brutally taken from behind.

“I don’t want to have sex,” Jim says. “Please.”

Spock relaxes. “But this was okay?”

“More than okay. God, you’re so pretty. You look so good, sweetheart. Can I hug you?” Spock leans into Jim with a quiet, pleasant purr. Jim wraps his arms around Spock’s lean torso and presses feather light kisses to his cheeks. Jim might not want sex, but Spock’s hips still seem restless. “You can touch yourself if you want,” Jim offers.

Spock shudders and gets off of Jim’s lap to turn back around and face him. With one hand braced over Jim’s shoulder on the back of the chair, Spock spreads his legs and reaches down with his other hand. His movements start light, fingers circling at the edges of the outer sheath and not quite entering. His hand is already covered in wet slick, dripping between the digits.

Spock slips his fingers inside of himself and his parted thighs flex and adjust around them. Jim watches Spock’s face, riveted by Spock’s tight concentration slowly giving way to parted lips and helpless arousal. His erection protrudes from the inner sheath, and Spock pushes his fingers into the inner walls containing it. He bucks into the touch with a small gasp.

Spock braces one knee up on Jim’s thigh and thrusts his fingers faster, keening at the new angle. Jim feels Spock’s leg tremble. “I’m close, Jim.”

“Fuck, Spock.” Jim’s still not physically aroused but knowing Spock trusts him in such a vulnerable state makes Jim’s chest burn with a passion he’s never felt before. “Come for me?”

Spock whimpers and jerks into his hand as he climaxes, and Jim grabs his hips to steady him. Spock rests his forehead on Jim’s shoulder, still thrusting his fingers languidly into himself. His erection has slipped back into its sheath. Spock's movements cease and he sags against Jim's body. Jim kisses Spock’s ear, rubbing the cool skin of his lower back. “That was perfect, babe. You were so good for me. Want to lie down? I’ll get a cloth for you.”

Spock nods into his shoulder, so Jim carefully lifts Spock and carries him to the bed. He dampens a towel in the bathroom and eases on the bed next to Spock to wipe him down, pressing small kisses to his stomach and legs as he works. He finishes with Spock’s hands, pressing a deliberate kiss to each fingertip. Spock pokes at Jim’s cheek and Jim feigns biting at the fingertip, making Spock chuckle.

Jim discards the towel in the cycler. “What should we have for breakfast tomorrow, Spock? Tofu fry?”

“That sounds excellent.” Spock is already drifting off to sleep. "We should ask Sulu if he has fresh spring onion in his garden to spare." Jim presses a lingering kiss to Spock’s temple before going out to the couch bed to retrieve the fleece blanket. He returns and rearranges Spock under the bed covers, slipping the fleece blanket over his bare skin before covering him with the thick comforter. Spock purrs and snuggles into his pillow. Jim lies down next to him and runs his hand one last time through Spock’s hair.

He doesn't remember the dream he had when he wakes up the next morning, but he's convinced it involved Spock's perfect weight settled back in his lap again.


End file.
